Last Dance Part 3 of 3
by FraidyCat
Summary: Sequel to That Which Tears Us Apart and You've Got To Be Kidding
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Last Dance **

**Author: FraidyCat**

**Genre: Drama, Angst**

**Time line: Sequel to "That Which Tears Us Apart" & "You've Got To Be Kidding"**

**Summary: Part 3 of an Exciting Triology. Charlie-centric, Brother-centric.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em – but wanna cuddle 'em.**

**Chapter 1**

As soon as Megan pushed open the door, Don knew this was not the sort of bar he frequented, not his usual Friday night hangout. Pulsating Latin music blasted his ears, and he heard Colby behind him. "Great. Dancing with the Stars." But he had lost the bet, and Don owed the two of them. This place was close to the office. The last time they had been here, it was just a bar. Apparently it was under new ownership.

"Beer is beer," Colby continued, pushing Don forward, while Megan turned slightly to pull on his sleeve.

"Come on. I kind of like this music!"

"Too bad David's not here," thought Don. "If he wasn't off on vacation, he never would have let me make such a stupid bet."

The three made their way to the bar and ordered their drinks. Megan was watching the dance floor. "I see a couple leaving," she said, turning back towards Don and speaking directly into his ear so that he could hear her over the music. "Let's go get that table!"

Don grabbed his beer and followed Colby, letting the bigger man act as his blocker. At the table, he sat with his back to the dance floor. Normal conversation was out of the question, so he waited for the lull between songs — not that it was much of a lull. "Remind me never to take the two of you on in a bet again." Before he had even finished, a salsa beat was starting.

"Are you sure?" Colby yelled, staring over Don's head. "Cuz I'm pretty sure you'd lose this one, too."

Don noticed that Megan was looking over his head toward the dance floor also, and her mouth was hanging open. He thought he saw her mouth a "Wow…"

He tracked their eyes and turned in his chair to see what was so fascinating. If Colby hadn't reached out to steady his arm, he would have dropped his beer. He couldn't take his eyes off the dance floor. He felt like he was dreaming. Quick turns and kicks, hip action Don didn't even want to think about, arms wrapped tightly around a shapely brunette, familiar grin…shit. Don hadn't known Charlie could dance like this. In fact, Don hadn't known his little brother could dance at all.

The three FBI agents watched, trying to reconcile the "Whiz Kid" who used algorithims and patterns to help them on cases, with the apparition on the dance floor. Don was so focused on Charlie that he didn't notice, until the music reached its crescendo and he dipped the brunette backwards over his arm, who she was. He was smiling. She was laughing. She was Amita.

Don hadn't seen Amita in over six months. She had run off to India the night before her wedding to Charlie, who had ended up drunk, hurt, and in the hospital with pneumonia. After a long recovery, complicated by the bone marrow stem cell transplant he had endured just 18 months earlier in treatment for leukemia, Charlie had spent three months in Ohio, doing something for NASA at the Glenn Research Center, something Don didn't have high enough security clearance to know about. He had only been home, back to his schedule of teaching, research and consulting, a few months himself. Don hadn't even had time to see him much until this week, when they'd needed Charlie's help on a case.

Her hair was long, again.

Amita was back. Amita was back, and she was dancing with his brother.

This was something he had to think about. In one motion, Don slammed his beer on the table, rose, was halfway to the door. When he got outside, Megan and Colby were behind him. They were both speaking at the same time.

"Did you know…"

"Was that…"

Don held up his hand, started digging in his pocket for his keys. "Consider the bet paid," he growled, and headed for his SUV.

He was at Charlie's house by 6 the next morning. He was glad their father, Alan, was out of town. He was in San Diego, with his business partner, looking over a project to see whether or not they wanted to put in a consulting bid. They weren't due back until Tuesday.

He let himself in the back door, headed for the stairs, hoping he wouldn't find anything up there he wasn't ready for. He was trying not to think about that when he heard a startled, "What?", and he looked up to see Charlie halfway down. He was dressed. He was alone. Thank God.

"You scared the crap outta me, Don. What are you doing here at 6 on a Saturday morning?"

Don waited for his brother to reach the bottom of the stairs, followed him into the kitchen. "Sorry. I had to talk to you."

Charlie opened the refrigerator to take out the gallon of milk. He retrieved a glass out of the cupboard. "Want some coffee?" he asked, while he poured. "I could make some."

Don sat at the table and waited for Charlie to join him. "No."

At the one-word answer, Charlie turned, confused. "Is everything all right?"

"No."

The second "no" really got Charlie's attention, and he sat down at the table facing Don. His face looked a little green. "Did something happen to Dad?"

Don kicked himself mentally for not thinking that Charlie would jump to that conclusion. "No, no, Buddy, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

"Then what is it? Something else with the case? I have plans later, but I was going to do some more work on it this morning."

"Charlie." Now that he was here, Don wasn't quite sure where to start. At the beginning finally seemed like a good idea. "I had to pay up last night, take Megan and Colby out for a beer. I lost a bet earlier this week."

"What bet?"

"Doesn't matter. Something about squirrels."

"What?"

"Stop interrupting me. I'm trying to tell you, we went to that bar down the street from the office. We went to Torino's."

Charlie carefully placed the glass of milk in front of him. For a moment, he was the same color as the glass of milk.

"You saw us?" he finally whispered.

Don didn't think he even had to answer that. He just leaned back in his chair and watched Charlie. At least a full minute passed in silence. Then, a slow smile started to cross Charlie's face.

"She looks good, doesn't she?"

Whatever Don had been expecting Charlie to say, that wasn't it. He leaned forward again. "Charlie," he said, the concern evident in his voice. "Do you know what you're doing? Because if you do, please, tell me. Reassure me."

Charlie didn't answer, and Don felt himself get angry. "You tell me NOW," he said, slamming his hand on the table, and Charlie jumped. "What the hell are you doing?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Charlie's color was back to normal. In fact, he was way too calm for Don.

"Relax," said his brother, picking up the milk again. "She's only here for a few days." He swallowed, placed the glass back on the table. "She's part of a think tank at MIT now. She just came back to…tie up all her loose ends."

"You knew she was coming." Don could tell just by looking at Charlie.

"Yes. Of course, I had heard that she joined the tank at MIT. Then last week she e-mailed me."

"Has this turned into one of those weird internet relationships?"

Charlie frowned. "They're not weird." At Don's head shake he added, "but, no. I hadn't heard from her in any way since that e-mail I got the week after she left."

"So how did you end up at Torino's last night?"

"I had a class at Cal Sci yesterday afternoon. She came by to pick up her things from storage. We all went to dinner — Larry, too."

"Larry definitely was not doing the salsa. _That_ I would remember."

Charlie grinned. "I'll bet. No, she and I went out later."

Don waited, but Charlie didn't offer any more details. Finally, he pressed. "Why?"

"We…we just wanted closure, I think. Wanted things to end on a happier note, maybe."

"So you won't be seeing her again?"

Charlie refused to meet his eyes. "I didn't say that."

Don didn't like the way that sounded. "Charlie…"

His brother abruptly stood, and turned from the table. "I missed her, Don. She was a friend."

"What she did was not very friendly." When his brother didn't answer, he tried something else. "Do you remember 'Alias Smith and Jones'?"

Charlie turned back and smiled, leaned against the counter. "The TV show, or the dog? I loved them both."

"The dog you named after the TV show. After you begged Mom & Dad to keep this…this mutt you found, it bit you. You managed to convince them it was your fault, so they wouldn't get rid of the dog. You cried until you made yourself sick, and they caved, like they always did with you. Next thing we know, we're all in the ER and you're getting an ear sewn back to your head."

Charlie bristled. "There is so much wrong with that story, I don't even know where to start."

"Like?"

"First of all, Amita is not some "mutt" I found."

Don tilted his head. "Point taken. I'll give you that one. Next?"

"Mom and Dad did not always 'cave' with me."

"Sure looked that way from where I was sitting," Don answered. "Not giving you that one. More?"

"I just got a few stitches. I didn't have my ear sewn back to my head."

"Twenty-eight stitches in an 8-year-old's ear, Charlie? Close enough. Not giving you that one, either."

The two brothers regarded each other in silence for a moment. "I _am_ a grown man, you know," Charlie finally said. "Shave, and everything."

Don held up a hand. "I do know that, Charlie, I do. It's just that you don't have the hardest heart around. That's not bad," he hastened to add. "I just don't want to see you get hurt again."

Charlie smiled at his older brother fondly. "I can appreciate that, Don. I appreciate _you_, for always trying to protect me…but…"

Don arched an eyebrow, and Charlie's smile faded. "My heart's getting a little harder. It's been a tough couple of years."

Don didn't know how to respond to that, so he asked the question that had been begging to be voiced since last night. "Where did you learn to dance like that?"

Charlie laughed. "We took a class. When we first started dating. We thought it might give us something else in common." He turned and headed for the door, effectively ending the conversation. At the doorway he turned back long enough to toss Don a wicked grin. "You should try it. It has certain…aphrodesiac… qualities."

"Too much information, Charlie," protested Don, watching his brother leave. He sat at the table a little longer, feeling his heart sink in his chest. He just didn't have a good feeling about this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"…and so you can see how, by applying the algorithim I designed from the patterns detected in the data supplied, the target area and timeline are narrowed. Without more data, I can't be more precise."

Absolute silence. Something Charlie Eppes was used to, especially when he tried to get his point across to Don's team. Still, this was a relatively simple theory. He looked at Don, who simply arched an eyebrow at him. Charlie turned and placed the Dry Erase pen on the tray of the white board. "Colby," he said, turning back to the agents gathered in the conference room.

Colby started, looked around him guiltily. "Yeah, Charlie?"

"What did I just say?"

Now it was Colby's turn to look to Don for help. Don just kept that eyebrow arched. He looked at Megan. She was extremely interested in her notes.

"Uh…well…there's a target area…" He felt like a kid getting called out in class for not paying attention. Which was sort-of what was happening.

Charlie crossed his arms and waited.

"She knows. She has notes," Colby finally offered lamely.

Megan threw Colby a withering look, then tried to fake it. "Well, I think you're saying that each of the video stores hit by this gang share a common…a common, uh, thread, and that by determining how many, I mean, what…"

Charlie lifted one hand to the top of his head, a gesture he was picking up from Larry. He dropped the hand, stuffed both in his jeans pockets to keep them still. "It was only dancing," he said quietly. "People dance."

Colby snorted. "Well, yeah, but geez, Charlie…you've never been 'people' before."

Now Don stepped in. He stood and walked to the front of the room to stand with Charlie. "I'm not sure exactly what that meant," he said to Colby, "but it doesn't matter. We're working here. These guys have hit 10 video stores in the greater Los Angeles area in the last two months. Seven clerks are dead. Two are in the hospital, one is still missing." He turned to his brother. "Go over it again, Charlie." He gave his best Team Leader glare to Colby and Megan. "Pay attention this time."

So Charlie turned and picked up the Dry Erase pen, went over it all again. "I'll keep looking for other contributing factors," he said finally. "But right now, all I can give you is this 25-square-mile area, and a high probability factor for Wednesday evening."

"And there are three video stores in that area," said Megan.

"I just wish we knew what they were after," mused Don. "It can't just be money. These things are way too sophisticated — and too violent — for a simple robbery."

"It could be to establish a false pattern," offered Charlie. Don showed some interest, so he went on. "The real target could be something much bigger — a bank, a Brinks' truck at the end of a shift…if that's the case, the team will at some point divide. A cell will take out another video store to cause a diversion while another cell goes after the real target."

"Okay." Don thought. "Okay, we've got a couple of days, here. Let's find the biggest target in the area, find out where the most money is, and when. And coordinate with LAPD. We'll need to set up three stake-outs on those video stores.'

Charlie looked at his watch. "I have a guest lecture at Cal State this afternoon. Just call my cell if you come up with anything else for me."

Don walked his brother to the elevator. "Thanks, again Charlie. If I can get things tied up here, you up for dinner tonight? I know Dad's not back yet, I thought we could do Mexican."

Charlie smiled at his brother fondly. "Good effort, Don." He pushed the "Down" button on the elevator and waited. "Amita is going to the lecture with me, and then we're driving out to Marina del Ray for dinner." At Don's frown, Charlie let a small sigh escape. "It's only a few more days, she's got a flight back to Massachusetts on Friday morning." The elevator arrived and the doors opened. Charlie stepped inside, but held the doors open while he looked at Don. "I'm all right, Don. I don't expect some great, romantic miracle here. Can you just let me enjoy this?"

Don couldn't help but cave, like he always did, like he always had, with his little brother. "Sure Charlie," he said, raising a hand as the doors began to close. He turned back toward his desk and muttered under his breath. "I guess I'll have to trust you on this one."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

When Charlie showed up at the FBI office just before lunch Tuesday, to return the files he still had, Amita was with him. Colby had already left for lunch himself, but Megan flashed her a bright smile.

"Amita! It's nice to see you again. You've been well?"

The two women embraced. "Yes, Megan. It's been a busy six months."

"Excuse me, I see Don." Charlie left the women talking and approached his brother. He dropped the files on his desk. "I'm sorry, I couldn't come up with anything more from these."

Don picked up the files, looked beyond Charlie's shoulder to Amita. "Joined at the hip?"

Charlie stiffened, and Don instantly regretted his harsh tone. "We're just going to lunch. You're welcome to join us. I'm sure she's inviting Megan to her girl's night out tomorrow. Larry and several members of Cal Sci's physics department are throwing a going-away dinner tonight." Charlie looked around for a chair, dragged it to the front of Don's desk and sat down. His voice was low. "I myself am going stay home tonight and have dinner with Dad, who will be home by then. Between lunch, which I expect will end at…" he looked at his watch…"12:57, and then, I need to prepare for the Cal Sci class I have this afternoon at 2:30 and check on an experiement I have going in my off-campus office; something for my personal research." He looked at the watch again, continued, "I'd like to schedule the bathroom after class at 4:30, before I drive home, but I can clear that with you later, if you'd like."

By this time Charlie's voice had risen, and his body language screamed his anger. People were starting to look their way, including Megan and Amita. Don rose from his chair and grabbed his brother forcefully by the arm. "You come with me," he hissed, dragging him into the first empty conference room they came to. When the door shut behind them, Don released his arm quickly, before he was ready, and Charlie stumbled backwards into some chairs. He caught himself on the table and looked at Don. He looked scared, and he didn't speak.

Don took a step toward him, and Charlie looked like he was going to climb up on the table. "Shit, Charlie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. You ok?"

Charlie just nodded. Don started the hair rub while he paced the room. "I can't believe you sat out in the middle of the bullpen and spoke to me like that. I'm in charge, here, Charlie. I can't have my respect undermined. Doubting me in the field could get someome killed."

Charlie still didn't speak, but at least he sat down in one of the chairs. Don sat a few chairs away. "Look. This was my fault. I know I haven't been exactly…supportive, lately. What's between you and Amita is none of my business."

Charlie met his eyes, then. Don hadn't seen that kind of pain and confusion in a while now, and the fact that he was probably the cause of it hurt him to the core.

"I thought you liked her," Charlie finally said softly.

Don rubbed his neck and looked around the room. Finally he stood and walked to his brother. "I did, Charlie, I loved her." Charlie looked up at him. "But she's a potential threat to someone I love more." Charlie's mouth opened as if he were about to speak, and Don hurried on. "She was my friend, too, Charlie, especially after you two started dating. I've missed that friendship, myself. And I don't believe she sat up all night long making a list of the ways she could hurt you, it's not that I think she's diabolical or something. She left a scar on you. It's hard for me to trust her again."

"So you get defensive."

"Just a little. I'm trying here."

Charlie looked like he was thinking about something, finally deciding to go for it. He stood. "Look, " he said, "we have lunch today, then we both have other plans for a few days…I'd like to have her come to the house Thursday night for dinner. An early night — her flight leaves early Friday morning. But I know she'd like to make things right with you and Dad. Or at least righter."

Don reached for his brother again, but Charlie involuntarily jerked back. "I hurt him," Don suddenly thought. "Not just today…I've hurt him a lot over the years. Not just when we were kids. I say things, do things all the time…" He reached for Charlie again, and this time his brother let him take his arm. Don continued to wonder. "And he has always let himself trust me again, just like he's doing now. Why does it surprise me that he's so willing to forgive Amita?"

He squeezed Charlie's arm gently. "I really am sorry," he said. "Do you believe that?"

"Of course," Charlie said, smiling, a little sadly, Don thought. "I'm sorry, too. This is what people do, Don. They love each other as best they can, and sometimes, we all have things to be sorry about. If we love each other enough, we find a way to go on." Don didn't speak for a moment while he thought about that, so Charlie continued. He grasped Don's hand with one of his own, looked directly at him. "I literally would not have a life without you," he said, "and I wouldn't want one. We've forgiven each other a lot, over the years. We're brothers. At first, because that's how we were born. But lately, the last few years…I think we're brothers because we want to be."

Don quickly turned away, releasing Charlie so that he could bring a sleeve to his eyes. "Damn," he grumbled, cleared his throat. "I thought I was supposed to be the big brother." He turned back to Charlie, who was smiling, arms crossed, looking more relaxed than he remembered him looking in a long time.

"Early dinner Thursday, huh?" he asked, as they walked together to the door. "I should be able to make that."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

David was back from vacation, and on Wednesday evening, he, Megan and Colby each coordinated with teams from L.A.P.D. to cover a video store. Playing Charlie's hunch, Don decided to cover a large armored truck deposit. It was the last day of the month, and receipts on the evening run for all trucks would be substantial — yet, the banks would not be open until morning, so the full trucks were stored for the night at the company's secure warehouse. It was here than Don set up his team.

The last truck backed into its spot. The driver completed his paperwork and left. Don waited.

……………………………………………………………………………………

Across town, Megan stared at the woman who had placed two DVDs and a baby carrier on the counter. The woman smiled. "Let me check on Bobby," she crooned, and pulled back the soft blue blanket, revealing to Megan a Glock much like her own service weapon. "Go ahead and help this gentleman behind me. I'll wait."

……………………………………………………………………………………

Two shadows stole around the edge of the building. Don tensed, spoke softly into his com system. "Got two, west door. Heads up."

……………………………………………………………………………………

The young officer from L.A.P.D. handed Megan some money, made small talk about the weather. She smiled back, pressed his change into his hand along with an extra $5.00 bill. He counted the money, thanked her. Nodded to the woman beside him who was still rocking the baby carrier gently on the counter.

……………………………………………………………………………………

They waited until the explosives were wired to the door, came running from six directions at once, shouts of "FBI" and "LAPD" echoing off the warehouse. The shadows morphed into men. Young, terrified. Too young, too terrified. The bust was clean, no shots were fired, but Don was not happy. These kids weren't the mastermind he was after.

……………………………………………………………………………………

On his way out the door, the officer dropped his DVD. Bending to pick it up, he nodded at the woman perusing the family section, who nodded pleasantly back, headed to another section. Action-Adventure. "Very funny," thought Megan, dropping to the floor. The two L.A.P.D. officers whirled from their positions, guns drawn, shouted at the woman to step away from the counter. In one motion she threw the empty carrier at the officer still crouched over the dropped DVD case, pulling out the weapon as she did so. She crashed a DVD display in front of her while she made for the counter, searching for her target. She saw Megan in the crowded space between counter and the wall, quickly sited her weapon, She never saw Action-Adventure coming, spun around at the fire in her shoulder, tried to shoot back. This time all three officers found their mark, and she dropped.

……………………………………………………………………………………

The kids were scared. Maybe a night in holding would scare them worse.

Thursday morning, Don arrived at the office early. He had some interoggating to do.

Someone was already waiting for him.

"Lieutenant John Corriander," the man introduced himself. "L.A.P.D. I've been out of town, so I missed all the excitement. I'd like to help, now that I'm back. One of my guys fired the kill shot in the video store. He's a good cop. I want this to be clean for him. I know you don't think you've got the guy in charge."

"No," agreed Don, sitting down, indicating a chair near the desk for his visitor. "I'm hoping the kids from the warehouse will give me something,"

"What about the video store? Was she working alone?"

"She was alone inside," said Don. "My guys outside…" he grinned apologetically. "_Our_ guys outside busted a driver. We won't get much out of him, though."

"Made a run for it?"

Don shook his head. "He probably should have. Bullets were flying all over the place, but he decided to stay and fight. He's alive, but in serious condition. Talked to the hospital this morning — he's still unconscious."

"How did you connect all the dots, anyway? What made you think something was happening last night, especially at two different places? That's against all the M.O. I've read about this case."

"Actually, our consultant was a big help in that area."

"Consulant?"

"Dr. Charlie Eppes — my brother. He's been consulting on cases here for a while, now. Uses mathematical principles, reduces everything to numbers…I gotta tell ya, I'm there most of the time, but I don't know what the hell he's doing." Don stood. "All I know is he pointed us in the right direction again."

The lieutenant stood as well. "That's incredible," he said, shaking his head and following Don toward interrogation. "That's really amazing."

……………………………………………………………………………………

The L.A.P.D. officer, along with Colby and Megan, watched Don and David work the perps. The kids kept saying they had no idea what they were even doing. They had just been hired on the street a few hours before, paid to blow the door before another team showed up to work the inside. Don didn't buy it for a minute. Who hired explosives personnel off the street? Both these kids had records, but for minor offenses up until now. It didn't make any sense. The guys acted like they were more afraid of…something, or someone else…than they were of doing real time.

"I don't think you're going to get anything out of them," offered Lieutenant Corriander when Don and David decided to let them stew for a while, and joined the others behind the one-way mirror. "I've run into these two before. Second-generation scum, both of them."

Knowing they were probably being watched, the two young men didn't have a word to say to each other while Don and David were gone.

"Okay," said Don. "Let's break 'em up, try again. Colby, you're with David — take Anderson. Lieutenant? Care to join me with Purcell? I'd like Megan to spend some time watching all of us, try to compose some profiles of these two."

Lieutenant Corriander smiled. "My pleasure, Agent Eppes. Here to help, after all."

……………………………………………………………………………………

Megan gave her preliminary report. "They know something, all right, and whatever it is is scaring them. Purcell, especially, once they were separated. From the instant you and the Lieutentant entered the room, Don, he was terrified. I don't think these guys are too _tough_ for you to break. I think they're too scared."

Colby strode into the conference room, looking at a folder in his hands. "We ID'd the video store perp," he said. "Another small timer. Jamie Valdez. She had a record, also nothing big until now."

"They couldn't have served time together," David mused. "Men and women are housed separately."

"Ran it anyway," Colby interjected. "Not even close. She's been off the radar for several years. The kids were just in last year, grand theft auto. Hasn't gone to trial, yet."

Don checked his watch. "Okay, we're done here. Maybe another night in holding will loosen their tongues." He reached out to shake the Lieutenant's hand. "John, I appreciate your help today."

They all filed out of the room, and no one paid much attention to his soft answer.

"And I yours, Agent Eppes, I yours."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Just a brief interlude…**

……………………………………………………………………………………

**Chapter 6**

Don slammed the door of the SUV, jogged to the kitchen door. "Sorry I'm late!" he shouted as he let himself in. Amita smiled at him over a casserole dish.

"Actually" she said, turning to carry the dish into the dining room, "you're just in time!"

Charlie reached across the table to poke him in the stomach with a warm loaf of French bread. "Yeah," he grinned. "Grab a beer and come on in."

Don heard his father's greeting as he called from the dining room. "Come and help me, Donnie. Charlie and Amita made dinner. They may both have at least two doctorates, but simple recipe quantities seem to have escaped them."

"Hey, Charlie protested, sitting the bread on the table and grabbing a chair for Amita. "We meant to do that. Leftovers."

Don grinned at his father and then sat next to him. "You've gotta admit, Dad, you've always been big on leftovers yourself."

Alan had dished up some casserole, was blowing on the fork. He frowned at his eldest and put the food in his mouth. "Mmmmm…" he closed his eyes, sank back in his chair. He opened his eyes again and looked at Charlie. "This is good. Which one of you is responsible for this?"

Amita laughed, accepting a serving bowl from Don. "Actually, it's a dish I learned to make in India the first time I went to visit, but I taught Charlie how to make it. I'm surprised he hasn't made it for you before."

"Spicy," Don observed after his first taste. "Charlie, why haven't you made this before?"

His brother shrugged. "Dad's usually halfway through dinner before I ever get home. It just never came up."

"You can cook any night you want to, Charlie," said Alan, "it's your house. Just let me know, first."

Charlie grinned. "Yeah. Right. Hold your breath on that, Dad."

After a few minutes of serious eating, Alan cleared his throat, had a sip of wine. "So, Amita," he said congenially. "You left my son at the altar. What else have you been up to?"

Don nearly choked on the bite of food he'd been working on, and he heard a strangled, "Dad!" out of Charlie. Alan clapped Don on the back a few times, never taking his eyes off Amita.

"I guess I deserve that," she said quietly.

Alan sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "No, Amita, Charlie — I'm sorry. Didn't even know that was hiding in there."

Amita looked at him earnestly. "I'm not surprised, Alan. You were with Charlie when I…left…I'm sure it was very difficult for you to watch him go through that."

She reached across the table to touch Charlie's hand. "I've apologized to Charlie, although an apology after something like that seems ridiculous. It's all I have to offer, though…" She turned again to look at Alan, then to Don. "I'd like to apologize to both of you, as well. I still think the final decision was the right one — for both of us — but I handled it very badly. I hurt everyone. I hurt myself."

The room was so silent they could hear the clock ticking on the wall. Don looked at his brother, whose face still harbored a sad shadow, and saw him smile at Amita. Then he locked eyes with Don.

"I guess," Don heard himself saying, "I guess, Amita, that this is what people do. We love each other as best we can, and sometimes, we all have things to be sorry about."

She smiled at him gently, then, whispered, "Thank you, Don."

He could feel his father's eyes on him and he looked over to an arched brow. "And where did you pick up that little piece of wisdom?"

Don just grinned, lifted his beer to drain it. "From a genius, Dad, from a genius."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Amita gave Alan a brief hug. "I'm sorry this has to be such an early night. My flight leaves early, and I still have to pack!"

"We understand," said Alan. "Thank you for coming tonight. I think it was good for all of us."

"And congratulations on MIT," added Don, when it was time for his hug.

"Thank you," she said. She turned to leave, then spun back around. "Don…thank you for coming to dinner. And thank you both, for taking care of Charlie."

Don and Alan watched as Charlie placed a protective arm around Amita. "I'll walk you to the car," he said, and threw them both a smile over his shoulder. He draped her sweater over his free arm, and guided her through the kitchen and out the door.

Alan gave a small sigh. "Well, I guess that's it. Stay and help me do the dishes, or are you off to celebrate your 'big bust' with the team?"

Don picked up a serving bowl to carry into the kitchen. "Not done, yet, Dad. Something's hinky," He opened the refrigerator, didn't see a square inch of space. He peered at his father over the edge of the door. "Seems like there're already some leftovers in here."

"Here, let me," his father grumbled, joining him to peer into the refrigerator. "I'll find some room in here somewhere."

Charlie walked Amita to her rental car, helped her on with her sweater. "Thank you," he breathed, and then he was holding her face in both hands, and the kiss was sweet, long. She pressed against him and reached up to put her hand in his hair. When she was having difficulty breathing, she pulled away. Unshed tears glimmered in the moonlight. She put her hands on his, forced him away from her face. "It's time for me to go," she said quietly.

Charlie took a step back, crossed him arms against the cool air, crossed him arms so that he would not touch her again. "I know," he whispered.

She opened the car door then, turned slightly, but still heard him. "You know I'll always love you."

She froze. She had known he would do this, she had known he would say this…

"…that's very sweet, Dr. Eppes. I said the same thing last night to Jaime, just before I sent her to the video store."

Amita and Charlie both whipped around, but an arm was already crooked around Charlie's neck, dragging him even farther from Amita. She gasped, tried to scream. She knew her mouth was open, but no sound was coming out.

Charlie was struggling. "Wh…What are you doing? Who are you?"

"Keep silent." A gun was lifted, pointed at his head. "Not a sound from either of you, or this goes off."

Whoever it was had height and strength on Charlie, and sometimes he felt like his feet weren't even touching the ground. After an eternity, he heard his captor speak again. "She was going to be my wife," he said. "This was going to be the last hit, the distraction we had set up for the real target. So much money…it was enough for us to disappear into Mexico and live in luxury forever. Enough to pay off those idiots I got out of lock-up, too."

His grip has loosened and Charlie made a move, but the arm was tightened again like a vise grip. Charlie was having difficulty breathing.

"It's your fault," the man hissed in his ear. "Your brother told me you're the one who figured it out. By the time I went on duty yesterday afternoon and heard what was planned, it was too late. I tried to call her, but there was no answer. I even went to the video store to stop her, but she was already there. I couldn't go in, my officers were there, they'd figure out it was me…I had to watch from the restaurant across the street. I watched them kill her."

Amita made a squeaking sound and Lieutenant John Corriander jammed the gun harder against Charlie's head, dragged him another two steps back. "Shut up!"

Charlie's ragged breathing was all that could be heard for a moment.

"This is the way it's going down, Dr. Eppes," hissed Corriander again. "You're going to feel my pain. You're going to watch her die."

Charlie struggled in earnest then., but the arm just gripped him tighter. He couldn't breathe at all, now, but he felt the pressure of the gun leave his head. Out of the corner of his eye he saw it aimed for Amita.

The explosion ruptured his ear drum. He was shoved away from Corriander in the next moment, shoved toward Amita. He tried to grab her, but she was disappearing. He was falling, his hand was rising on its own to his ear. He couldn't hear if he was screaming. He rolled over onto his back, then, and saw Corriander put the gun in his mouth, pull the trigger again. The second explosion didn't seem as loud, but he rolled quickly back over so he didn't have to see. He reached frantically for Amita with one hand. tried to find her. There was smoke, from the gun. He couldn't seem to take his hand off his ear, he was dizzy, naseous…He crawled in the dark, hit something solid. Floodlights suddenly came on, and he looked down. Amita was staring back up at him, and he was happy, so happy, she was alive…but he didn't remember that dress. Where did she get a dress like that? One that seemed to blossom a bigger and bigger pattern, dark and wet soaking into crisp white cloth, forming some sort of hybrid fabric…maybe she had designed it herself, used some formula he wasn't familiar with…He touched the pattern, and it became sticky, and he saw now that it was on the ground around her, under her…He knew that he was screaming now, he could feel it tearing at his throat. Maybe she was answering, he couldn't hear…but her lips weren't moving. Her eyes weren't blinking. He was screaming. He was screaming, and he couldn't stop.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Don was carrying a stack of plates into the kitchen when he heard it. Two shots. Large caliber handgun.

"What was that?" Alan asked, turning to his son, but the dishes were on the floor in pieces and Don was already halfway to the door, gun drawn.

"Call 911!", he shouted, flipping on the floodlights. "Stay on the line with them! Tell them shots fired!" He jerked open the door, gun proceeding him into the night. He could see Amita's car, three shapes on the ground. He could hear Charlie screaming. His eyes searched the shadows, were drawn again to the shapes by the car. He knew it was wrong to cross the open space without back-up, it went against all his training…but his brother was screaming.

He took off in a low crouch. A neighbor's floodlights came on, and the scene became clearer. Still, he saw nothing. In seconds he was at Corriander's body. The top of his head was missing, but there was enough of his face left that Don recognized him, and he felt his blood freeze. Automatically, he kicked the gun away from him, although he was sure the man wouldn't be using it again.

His own weapon still out, Don yelled at Charlie. He had stopped screaming, but one hand was on his ear, and one was…G-d. One was on Amita. "Charlie! Charlie, are you hit?"

He heard screeching tires, a car door slam. Footsteps. "FBI! FBI!" he yelled, pointing his gun into the darkness, crossing the last few feet so that he could cover his brother.

"Don! It's me!" It was Colby's voice. "Listen, I found a connection…" He entered the light then, saw the scene before him, drew his own weapon. "Got you covered," he spat, and Don holstered his weapon, fell on the ground next to Charlie. He tried to pull his brother off Amita, but he wouldn't respond to him. Soon his father's hands were there also.

"Get him back!" he barked. "Check him for injuries! Are they sending an ambulance?"

"Charlie, Charlie, son, let your brother work…" Charlie didn't seem to hear Alan, either, but he responded to his father's touch, focused on his father's face. As he let himself be dragged back, he watched Don bend over Amita. "Help her." His voice was hoarse.

Don saw the blood. He saw the wound. He saw the staring eyes. He knew it was pointless, but he had to try. He had to try, for his brother. He looked at Charlie, tilted Amita's head back to clear the airway. Every time he breathed air into her lungs, more blood bubbled out of her chest. Every time he compressed her heart, more blood spurt out and covered his hands.

After at least a century, pulsating red and blue joined the floodlights, hands pulled him away from her. He met a paramedic's eyes, saw the shake of the head. "Charlie," he said, and he heard Colby's voice again.

"He's over there. With your father."

Don followed Colby's hand and saw his father on the ground. He was holding Charlie in his lap, one hand clamped what looked like a towel to his ear. He saw another ambulance arrive, saw the paramedics rush to them. Don wasn't sure where he should be. He felt like he should be everywhere. Then he felt Colby's hand under his elbow, felt himself being lifted and led away from Amita. He looked back once, saw her body arch in reaction to a defibrillator. How many times had they shocked her?

He reached his father and Charlie just as the second team of paramedics was loading his brother onto a gurney. His eyes were closed, he wasn't struggling. He wasn't answering their questions.

"This is his family, he's going to the hospital with his family," he heard Colby saying. "You'll have to debrief him later."

He helped his father climb into the ambulance with Charlie. "Only one of you," a paramedic said, and he felt Colby pull him.

"Get in my car," he said. "I'm driving."

……………………………………………………………………………………………

At the hospital, Colby led Don to a restroom so that he could wash his hands. "Here," he said, and dropped a gym bag on the floor. "I keep some spare clothes and stuff in the car. You should at least find a t-shirt in there you can wear." Don nodded his thanks and Colby met his eyes in the mirror. "I'll go back to your father," he finally said. "If you're okay here." Don nodded again, and Colby left.

Ten minutes later, Don joined them, Colby's jeans so loose on him they were in danger of falling off. His own clothes, covered in Amita's blood, still laid on the floor of the bathroom. He talked quietly into Colby's ear. "Get something from the hospital and bag those," he said. "Might need them for evidence." Colby started to leave, but Don grabbed his arm, and he turned to look at his team leader. Face pale, dwarfed in clothes too big for him, he looked impossibly young to Colby. "Thanks," Don said, looking him in the eye.

Don sat next to his father. Alan turned confused eyes to him, asked, "What happened?", and Don found that he couldn't answer. Finally, he hung his head. "I think I killed Amita," he said.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

While they waited for some word on Charlie, Colby came back and filled his father in on the details. Alan drew a breath, pulled his son to him, kissed the top of his head. "This is not your fault," he said quietly. "This is not your fault."

Don let his father hold him, tried to believe what he said, but he knew that he never would. He had given Charlie to Corriander. He had assumed the man wouldn't have made it as far as the bullpen if someone hadn't already check him out with L.A.P.D. He had violated the first rule of being an agent, and he had given up his own brother.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

"Eppes family?"

Don and Alan stood, looked with frightened eyes to the doctor.

He focused on the older man. "Your son will be fine." He waited a moment for the relief to hit, and when he was sure they were listening again, continued. "The acoustic trauma ruptured his right ear drum. This has caused some sensory hearing loss, some of which he will regain…we'll have to wait for the ear to heal on its own. There's not much we can do for an injury like this."

"Some hearing? He'll only regain some hearing?"

The doctor nodded at Alan. "I'm afraid acoustic trauma involves some permanent loss. Sometimes a hearing aid can help with any ongoing tinnitus, or 'ringing in the ears'…we just have to wait and see what happens."

Don interrupted. "What about his other ear? Why couldn't he hear us at all?"

"Tests show that his left ear suffered no damage," assured the doctor. "But he did suffer severe shock, as well. The combination was overwhelming for him."

Alan's hand creeped up to his chin. "He can hear now?"

"Yes, he's been responding to us, although he's still shocky, very distraught. He knows…he understands that the young woman is gone. We had to give him a mild sedative. He has balance and nausea problems associated with the rupture, of course, tinnitus. All of those things should improve within days."

He waited for more questions, but the men in front of him were clearly traumatized themselves. "There is also some bruising on his throat, but no real damage was suffered by the trachea. We want to observe him for a few hours," he said gently, "mostly because of the shock. We're moving him out of the main traffic of the ER. I'll have someone come and get you in a few minutes; you can see him then."

The doctor left, and the Eppes men rejoined Colby. They sat in silence for a while.

"We can't take him back there," said Don, thinking of the crime scene, the technicians who would be crawling all over his brother's driveway.

Alan grunted. "You're right. Can we take him to your apartment? I know there's only the one bedroom…"

"Of course," Don assured his father. "We'll take him there."

After more silence, Alan spoke again. "I should get him some things from home. He'll…he'll need to change his clothes."

"I can take you," Colby offered. "I'll get you past…everything."

Alan smiled at the young man. "I'd appreciate that, Colby." He thought for a moment, stood. "We'll go now. I'll pick up some things for Charlie, take them to your place," he said to Don. "I'll get things ready. You stay with your brother."

"I'll come back to drive you both to the apartment," Colby said, standing to join Alan.

Don nodded, and soon he was alone. He didn't know how long he sat there. He wasn't even fully aware of someone coming after him, of following a woman to a screened cubicle. He came fully to his senses when he saw Charlie.

His brother was lying on his back, eyes closed, face pale. The bruises on his throat stood out against the white skin.

"He's sleeping," the woman said. "The sedative. But you can sit with him if you'd like."

She left Don with his brother, and he sat next to the bed. He saw Charlie's hands, then. They were still covered with Amita's blood. Shocked, his eyes searched the room for something, anything to clean them with, but he saw nothing. He began to panic. He could not let Charlie wake up to Amita's blood on his hands. He left the room then, grabbed someone in the hall. He wasn't even sure she worked at the hospital, but she must, because she disappeared into another room and then came right back out, shoving cotton balls and packages of moist towlettes at him. "Sorry," he heard her say, "we just haven't had time…"

He didn't hear the rest of it, because somehow, he was already back at Charlie's bed. Carefully, gently, he raised first one hand, and then the other. He cleaned them as well as he could without waking his brother.

Looking at Charlie's face again, he saw blood spatters there, too, and he moved up to the head of the bed. He hadn't realized he was crying, but large, hot tears were falling on his brother's face, and he was using the moisture from them to wipe away Amita's blood. Then, tears were rolling out of Charlie's closed eyes as well, and their tears were mixing, Don couldn't tell them apart anymore. He just kept wiping them all off his brother's face. When he couldn't stand anymore, he sat down, and laid his head next to Charlie's on the pillow.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

After Colby got back to the hospital, while he was waiting, he roamed the perimeter with his cell. From the ER waiting room he called Megan, got Larry's phone number. From the south entrance, he called Larry. He walked to the opposite north entrance, called David. He had a hard time convincing each of them not to come to the hospital, and Megan was there anyway when he got back to the ER waiting room.

He found her huddled on a chair. She jumped up when she saw him, grabbed his arm when he got close enough. "Tell me what to do," she begged, and he wished he could, he wished that something would make a difference.

"I'm just waiting," he said, and they both sat down again. Five minutes later, she stood.

"I'm going to Larry's," she announced, looking at him like she expected him to argue.

He just nodded, watched her leave, and waited some more.

Eight hours after Charlie was taken to the ER, at 4 a.m., he was released. Don appeared in front of Colby. "It's time to go," he said quietly, and Colby saw Charlie emerging from the exam room slowly, haunted eyes searching for something. Colby ran ahead to get the car, and Don steadied Charlie's elbow as they walked slowly to the exit.

Colby had called Alan as soon as he got to the car, and he was waiting anxiously for them at the door to Don's apartment 20 minutes later. He seized his youngest from the strong arms that had guided him up the stairs, tried to take him in his own, but Charlie pulled back, would have stumbled out the door if Don and Colby hadn't still been behind him. Alan met Don's eyes and settled to a gentle hand to Charlie's head, instead.

"Do you want to take a shower, son? I put some things for you in the bathroom."

Charlie looked around blankly, and Don pushed past him, took his arm. "This way, Buddy." He led him down the hall. Once in the bathroom, Charlie looked in the mirror, and it occurred to Don that he probably hadn't done that since it happened. His brother licked his lips, stared at his own reflection. Still staring, he spoke so quietly Don wouldn't have heard him if he hadn't been waiting so long to hear his brother's voice. "I'll be out in a minute."

"Sure." Don backed off, out the door, stepped into Alan waiting in the hall.

"Just go on into Don's room and sleep for awhile, son," their father called. "Everything's ready for you."

As Don closed the door he looked at Alan. "That's the first thing he's said."

Alan looked shocked, and Don hurried to explain. "Besides 'yes' and 'no', I mean, to the people at the hospital. He didn't even say that much to me and Colby on the way here."

They walked back to the living room, separated. Don sat wearily on the couch, leaned his head back. Colby sat at the kitchen bar, drinking some of the coffee Alan had made while he was waiting for them. Alan wandered into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator. "I'm going to clean this out," he announced to no one in particular, and he reached into the unknown.

………………………………………………………………………………………

Colby left around 6 for his own place. Alan moved from the refrigerator to cleaning the stove and oven, which Don hardly used enough to justify cleaning, but he let him do it anyway. His dad had been cleaning his place most of the night, and was going to run out of apartment soon. David had just arrived when at 11 they heard a door open, looked quickly at each other, then to the hallway. Charlie was advancing toward them, one hand trailing the wall, the other cupped over his ear. Don and Alan both hurried to him, helped him to the couch. They just stared at him for a while.

"How do you feel, Alan finally asked.

Charlie's voice was still hoarse, from the screaming and the sudden lack of use. "Dizzy," he murmured. "Ringing." He only seemed capable of one-word answers.

Alan turned to the kitchen counter to retrieve the medication Don had brought home with him. "They sent something for that," he said, but Charlie's voice stopped him.

"No. Still fuzzy."

Without something to do, Alan was at a loss, and he looked helplessly at Don.

"Can I get you something else?" he asked his brother.

Charlie looked up at them, and worked his way up to four consecutive words: "Tell me what happened."

………………………………………………………………………………………

Don sat down on the couch, turned to face his brother on the other end, and told Charlie everything he knew. How Corriander had insinuated himself into the investigation. How he had let him.

"But nobody gets in the bullpen without clearance," Alan said. "I can't even get up there to see you when we meet for lunch. I always have to wait in the lobby."

"That's what I came to tell you," interrupted David. "Corriander bypassed the clearance check, a security guard…", he took a notebook out of his pocket, looked down quickly. "…Daniel James… gave him direct access. Background check showed that James used to work with Corriander at L.A.P.D." Don and Alan took in that information. "Guard's been fired," David finished lamely, "but he might be subject to prosecution as well."

Don shook his head. "He thought he knew him."

David protested. "Still. Against every rule there is, Don. You know that. If he had just gone through the usual clearance, L.A.P.D. would have told us he wasn't part of the case."

Charlie had been silent, but now he looked at Don.

"You didn't check on him."

Don wished so hard that he didn't have to say it, that it only came out as a whisper. "No."

Charlie's eyes filled with tears, and Don had to drop his gaze. "I'm so sorry." When Charlie said it, Don looked up again quickly.

"What?"

"I know you, Donnie." His brother took a breath, struggled to say it all. "No matter who tells you it's not your fault, so matter how many times you hear that, you're not going to believe it. You'll carry this…" he turned his eyes to his father. "Don't let him carry this."

"Charlie…" Don couldn't believe _Charlie_ was apologizing to _him_. "My G-d, Charlie…"

His brother grabbed the arm of the couch, pushed himself up. He listed to one side, and David was the first to reach him. Holding on to the other man for balance, Charlie looked again at Don. "I don't know how to breathe," he said, and was met with silence. He looked at his father. "I can't remember what Pi is." Listing again, holding tighter to David, he turned back to Don. "Please. I need you to tell me how to breathe. Don't disappear on me, don't guilt yourself away from me." He was crying openly now, and Don felt himself rise, felt his arms wrap around his brother, felt the tears soaking into his t-shirt. "Please," Charlie was clutching at his shirt now, sinking to the floor. "Tell me how to breathe."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Charlie stood at the kitchen door, looking through the window. It was a new, asphalt driveway. They had made sure of that, before they brought him home. Don, Colby, David, David's brother-in-law — a contractor — and several of his work contacts. They spent two days breaking out the blood-stained concrete, pouring the grainy, black asphalt. Charlie knew that should matter to him.

It was Wednesday. He had finally gotten Don to go back to work, convinced his Dad he could do the grocery shopping and leave him alone for a few hours.

He just wanted to be alone.

He turned his head slightly, so that his left ear was more exposed to the rest of the house. Most of the dizziness and balance problems were gone, but he still had fairly regular tinnititus, and he tried to make people speak on his left side. Unless he didn't want to hear. Sometimes, he didn't mention it, because it was easier to not have to answer when they asked him questions.

Yep, he was sure of it now. Someone was ringing the doorbell — it wasn't just in his ear — and now knocking on the front door, as well. He wearily rubbed the back of his neck, padded in bare feet through the kitchen, dining room, living room. He pulled open the door without looking through the peephole first. Don would be angry, but Charlie just didn't really care who it was.

"That's a nice look," she said, eyes taking in the old t-shirt, ragged sweats, bare feet. She reached out and touched the six-day growth of beard on his face. "Not your best look, though." She leaned forward, peered more closely. "Some of this is coming in gray."

In spite of himself, he felt himself smile. "Katie. It's good to see you."

He held open the door farther so that she could come in. Instead of brushing past him, she stopped and hugged him, quick, hard. "How are you?" she whispered in his ear.

Automatically, he stepped back, avoided her eyes, passed beyond her into the living room. "Do you want to sit down?"

Katie followed him, pushed his back lightly to keep him going. "You know," she said conversationally. "Since you were my patient — one of my favorite patients, I might add — I've really missed something."

Charlie let her propel him back to the kitchen and sit him at the table. She stood looking down at him, grinning slightly. It was making him nervous. He was almost afraid to ask. "What?"

She reached out a hand again to touch his cheek. "I want to give you a shave. Or are you growing this on purpose?"

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

Don couldn't concentrate. He knew that a distracted Agent would do more harm than good, so he refused to let himself go out in the field. In fact, it was unprecedented, but he pulled the entire team off the roster. No action for any of them, at least for a few days. They needed to regroup. At Megan's suggestion, they were even all going together to a session with the FBI shrink tomorrow. He hoped it would help. They had all been in various forms of law enforcement for years, it's not like this was new for any of them. But it was worse, somehow, different, somehow. Charlie was part of their team, but he was a cilvilian part. He wasn't supposed to pay the same price they did.

His eyes wandered to the clock. Almost noon. Maybe he'd go by the house, have lunch with Charlie. Well, have lunch with Charlie watching him, not eating anything himself, wearing the same grungy sweats for the fourth day in a row, not talking and pretending not to hear when he did…. Yeah. Don stood up. He would go do that.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

He didn't recognize the car in the new driveway, but he saw that his father's car was gone so he was glad that at least Charlie wasn't alone. He opened the front door, tossed his keys on the hall table. He expected to see someone in the living room. When he didn't, he opened his mouth to call, but then, through the dining room, he saw them in the kitchen. He silently lowered himself to the couch and watched.

Charlie was sitting in a chair, eyes closed, head tilted slightly back. He face was covered with shaving cream. There was a large bowl of water on the table. Facing him, sitting closely in another chair, was Katie. He watched her flick water off the straight edge as she lifted it from the bowl. Her hand was sure, and she made quick, short movements. She shaved the heavy stubble from his face, then picked something up from the floor and squirted it into her hands. She lathered his face again, stood and changed the water in the bowl. She sat down and worked the razor the other way now, slower, taking her time. There was no speaking. When she finished, she picked up a towel from the table, stood, and began gently wiping the residue of shaving cream from his face. Charlie's eyes were still closed.

She tossed the towel on the table as she walked around behind Charlie's chair. She bent over him, then, draped an arm over his chest and spoke into his left ear. "When she left last year," she started, "I told you that she hadn't taken any part of you with her. The experience of having loved her…it added to who you are, it didn't take anything away. That's still true."

Don was surprised to hear Charlie's voice, soft, almost dreamy. "The sun comes out every day. The sun comes up in the morning, and I am astonished. I don't understand how the sun can shine on a world without her in it. I watch people, and they laugh, they smile. It doesn't make me angry, I just think they must not know. They must not understand."

She lifted the hand from his chest to touch his hair, but otherwise did not change her position.

"When my mother died," he continued, and Don stiffened. "It was different. I couldn't be there, I couldn't put the chalk down…Now, I can't leave here, I can't pick the chalk up…"

"Of course it was different. You're different. Every love that blesses us is different, every loss is unique. It doesn't mean you did the wrong thing then, or that you're doing the wrong thing now."

His eyes were still closed, and he raised his hand to pull hers out of his hair, hold it tightly over his heart.

She lowered her voice, but still Don heard. "It will come back. Your passion for life, for teaching, for numbers. It's all in there…maybe rearranging itself a little, but it's still who you are. It will come back."

Charlie tilted his head to meet hers. "What do I do until then?" he whispered.

"One foot," she answered. "One foot goes in front of the other."

And that was where Don placed his, as he headed for the door as silently as he could. He wasn't needed here, not right now. Katie had it all under control.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Larry greeted them at the door to the lecture hall. "I'm so glad you could all come." He gave Megan a small squeeze, nodded to the three men with her.

"So many people…" Colby breathed, looking around the room.

"Yes, well, she had many colleagues, as well as friends. So much of her life revolved around this campus. When there was no funeral, and her parents had her …had her returned to India, well, we wanted to do something…"

Don took off his sunglasses, wandered off from his coworkers. He gravitated toward a display table. A large picture of Amita was surrounded by mementos of her life. A copy of her doctorate; he recognized Charlie's scribbles in the margin. He smiled. That's right, that's when they first met — Charlie was her doctoral adviser. Her hiking boots. A stack of books from her personal library. David appeared next to him, picked one up. "Wow." He thumbed through the book, then looked at Don. "What does this say?" Don laughed, and pointed at the author's name on the cover: "Dr. Charles Eppes". "That's the only part I've ever understood," he admitted. David looked through a few more pages. "Do you have one of these?" Don reached over David's arm to pick up a small photo album. "Mine's autographed."

When he got to a photo of Charlie and Amita smiling into the camera from seats at a restaurant table, he closed the book and put it down.

He roamed the room, standing at the edges of clusters. People he didn't know nibbled cookies and told stories to each other. At one cluster, he found Katie. She smiled, gave him a hug. "Thanks for calling me and asking me to go see Charlie," she said. "I wanted to, but I also wanted to wait until the right time."

"How did you know it was the right time?"

She shrugged. "You called. Said he needed me. That's all a nurse needs to hear, you know."

Don shifted awkwardly. Weight on one foot, Then the other. "I might need a nurse myself," he finally choked out, and Katie's eyes widened. Letting the silence between them stretch beyond all comfortable limits, she finally couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from lifting. "Took you long enough," she whispered, and Don found himself smiling broadly at her.

Megan was at his elbow. "Is Charlie here?"

Now it was Don's turn to shrug. "He knows about it," he said. Looking around, he spied Alan near the front of the room. "There's Dad. I need to go speak with him." Turning again to Katie, he lifted his eyebrows. "Call you later?"

"Sure," she said, with a wink toward Megan. "Pretty sure you've got my number!"

Don felt himself turn red and cursed the way that woman pulled blushes out of him. Navigating his way around while still looking for Charlie, he eventually reached Alan.

"Dad."

"Donnie!" Alan wrapped his arms around his oldest. "I'm glad you could make it. I saw Colby, earlier."

"Yeah, Dad we all came. Is Charlie here?"

Alan sighed. "He didn't come with me." He turned toward a table behind him, surveyed an assortment of finger foods. He settled for a toothpick of cheddar, turned back to Don. "He went back to work this week, you know."

"Yeah, I know. How's that going?"

"Well, at least it makes him tired enough to sleep at night. I think. He's given up his class here at Cal Sci this semester, but at least he's still teaching. Still guest lecturing. I'd hate to see him stop that."

"I don't think he will, Dad." Don squeezed his father's shoulder. "I've got somebody on it." Alan looked confused, but Don just smiled. "Never mind. Listen, I made my appearance, but this really isn't for me. I'm going to take a walk around campus while I wait for the others."

Alan returned his smile. "Of course. Just sign the book on your way out, no one will ever know."

Don grinned, did as his father suggested, pushed past someone telling a story about Amita's acceptance by the MIT think tank, and got out the door. They were in the math building. Don decided to go upstairs, to the offices, see who was assigned Charlie's office now. When his brother gave up his tenureship and became an adjunct professor, after his experience with leukemia, the office had gone with it. He was given room to use in a bigger office that was shared with several other adjunct professors, but he never used it. He had rented his own office space just off campus instead, and conducted his personal research there as well. Don took the stairs. It was only two flights.

He opened the stairway door and stepped into the hall. He was startled to see someone sitting on the floor down…down by Charlie's old office? He quickened his step, and soon saw that it _was_ Charlie, head and back leaned against the wall, eyes closed, knees drawn up with his arms around them. Don hesitated, then sat down against the opposite wall, facing Charlie.

Charlie's eyes opened a sliver, recognized him, closed again.

He didn't have to be prompted, but began to speak, softly, right away. "We spent so many hours, here. I thought maybe I could still feel her here."

"Can you?"

A sad smile. "I can feel her everywhere."

There was silence, then, for a while.

"There are people downstairs," Don finally offered.

"I know."

"Charlie?"

"Hmmm?"

"I know this is really bad timing. I'm sorry."

The eyes squinted at him again. "What?'

Don looked away, ran his hand through his hair in the old familiar gesture. "I think…" He looked back at his brother, felt almost guilty. "I think I just asked out Katie."

The eyes opened all the way then. The smile this time was a little less sad. And even though he hadn't been there, he couldn't have heard her, still, Charlie managed to parrot Katie.

"Took you long enough."

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**A/N: 'Kay. I think I'm really done now. I doubt that there will be a Don/Katie story, because Charlie is really my heart — and I think I've put him through enough! Thanks for all the reviews of this entire trilogy. Enjoyed writing it!**


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